The first death takes the life
And deprives us a simple touch
And a familiar laugh
To fill the spaces around us.
The second death suffers time
To create a widening rift -
Leaving one weeks - months behind
As in abandonment.
The third death is our memory -
What elements - what remnants
Hover almost perceptibly
But the mind fails to focus.
The final death is the loss of things -
A favorite - a souvenir
Broken into haphazard pieces
By a careless hand - forever.
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Author:
Amy Michelle Mosier (
Offline) - Published: October 3rd, 2025 08:41
- Category: Reflection
- Views: 7
- Users favorite of this poem: sorenbarrett
Offline)
Comments1
Loved the concept of this and for that a fave. It made my mind work and although I disagree as to the order the concept is pure. Yet another death is possible and that is the death of the soul, and the Romans add another that is erasing one from history by removing one's name. A lovely write
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